It's Always Sunny in Hetalia
by Adiaphory
Summary: A series of one-shots based on episodes of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." These are the shenanigans the owners of the shabby Axis Powers Bar get into with all these idiots surrounding them! [Human AU. Always Sunny. Parody]
1. Feliciano Got Molested

**A/N : To preface this, I'll say that this is very much based on _It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ , but there's not a "Alfred is Dennis and Ludwig is Frank" kind of character match. There are extra characters and characters who take the place of two Sunny people. So don't focus on anything like "oh is this one Dee?" because it won't work too well.**

 **Each chapter will be a different episode and hopefully as I write them they won't be exact retellings of the original story.**

* * *

The table clacked with the force of Ludwig smacking the newspaper down on the surface. Kiku spilled a bit of his tea on the pool table but Feliciano just smiled and continued on lining up the solid-colored billiards before hitting one over the edge of the table.

"Disgusting. Did you two read the paper?"

"No," Kiku walked up behind Ludwig. "What was in it?"

The blonde man held the paper back up, pointing to a specific headline towards the bottom of the page. "This. The old gym teacher from our grade school is a suspected child molester."

Kiku gasped. "Mister Roderich? No way," he set his tea down. "I never liked him but I didn't think he'd do _that_."

"Feliciano!" The Italian flinched dramatically while gathering up the billiards. "Didn't you have him, as well?"

" _Ve_ …"

"What?"

"Well, I didn't like it…" He dropped the colorful balls and hurried out of the room, muttering quick lines in Italian.

Kiku looked around the bar, a slight worry growing for his friend. He spotted Alfred and Matthew in the back of the room, in an old booth, sipping on their respective beers. Alfred noisily finished his, walking to the bar and smacking it down on the counter before turning to Ludwig. Matthew scurried after him, gingerly setting down his own stein. "Dude," Alfred stage-whispered to Ludwig. " _Feli was molested._ "

* * *

 ** _It's Always Sunny in Hetalia_**

 _Feliciano Got Molested_

* * *

Feliciano hurried down the street and around random corners, trying to get to his destination as fast as he could. He stopped at a door, knocking frantically until it slid open. He faced a naked Gilbert, damp and barely covered in a tiny towel around his slender waist.

"Come on, _hehehe_ …"

Feliciano stared at him, noting how the man took up almost the entire doorway by standing in the center of it. "No. You move and _then_ I'll come in."

"Just step around me," The albino teased.

"NO." They shared serious looks and the Prussian soon moved aside to let in the Italian. " _Grazie_."

They entered the dusty apartment, full of weird yard-sale knick-knacks and stuff you'd find at a distant aunt's house. Feliciano sat on the patched-up couch, his weight stirring up dust and causing a coughing fit. Gilbert sat down across from him, knees wide open, causing the younger man to stare at random patterns on the ceiling and high walls.

"Where is Ivan?" he asked, knowing the two men to be very close roommates. Questionably close.

"He's drying off, we just got out of the shower."

"Oh, okay—wait, did you say ' _we'_?"

Gilbert stared right through Feliciano's soul. "I said he." The Italian gulped and turned to look at an old framed picture on the wall of Ivan and Gilbert from high school, still creepy as ever. Ivan stepped into the small, crowded room in briefs and a scarf covering his shame.

"Oh, company," he said soullessly. He grabbed some RAID and sprayed himself and the cabinets. "So I take it you've seen the paper."

"Yes!" He jumped up, for once not cowering behind Ludwig. "You can't do this!"

Gilbert laughed. "We already did, dumb tomato."

"It's a lie! Mr. Roderich never molested you! He never touched any of us!"

Ivan smiled and pulled some holey pants on. "That may be true but he was a dick and we hated him."

In an instant Gilbert was sitting beside Feliciano, his damp skin leaving watery spots on the brunette's jeans. It was clammy and cold and very uncomfortable. "Think of it, Feli. We can get so much money from a settlement! Priests and uncles are so yesterday! But molested by a teacher? Just awesome! An awesome plan by an awesome man!" He motioned to himself.

Before he could protest, Ivan placed a heavy hand on the Italian's shoulder. "And don't try fighting this." A shiver ran down his spine. "We'll tell them it was all your idea."

"But it—"

 _It was one year ago at the bar: Axis Powers. Feliciano ran it with his partners, Kiku and Ludwig. It was another drunken night for the Italian and he found himself drinking rounds with Ivan and Gilbert, pounding back shots and acting like friends despite the mutual dislike of one another._

 _"We should," Feliciano hiccupped, "we should totally sue him! Say he moles…" another hiccup, "…molested us! I always hated that man! He always made me clean with the push-broom for being late to gym!"_

Feliciano gulped hard. Oh yeah, it actually _was_ all his idea. "B-but I was drunk when I said that! I didn't mean it!"

"You're a co-conspirator," Ivan smiled. "Come on, we have work to do."

* * *

"Guys, I think we're jumping to conclusions here."

"Matt! It's so obvious he was raped!"

"Molested."

"What _ever_."

It had been an hour since Feliciano dashed out of the bar, but Alfred was still there with his brother, trying to convince Ludwig and Kiku that their friend had to have been diddled. He placed a thoughtful hand to his chin, deep-fried in thought.

"We will need to ask him about it, before we jump to any conclusions," Ludwig stated. "Feliciano will clear this up—"

"Dude, the last thing we need is for Feli to know we know! It'll traumatize him!"

Kiku sighed. "And what if we assume he was molested when he wasn't? Wouldn't that hurt him as much?" Alfred blinked at him.

"Look, guys, I got this! You all stay here and let me, the hero, take care of things!" And in a flash the blonde idiot was out of the bar and scheming a plan to "help Feli." Matthew grimaced, knowing this couldn't end well. Kiku rubbed the back of his head, asking,

"I'm sorry, but who are you again?"

"I'm Matthew…"

* * *

The bushes wavered as Alfred and Francis stalked Feliciano from around a corner. Alfred knew only one person could keep up to speed with him when it came to stalking Feli: his good friend, Francis! Always up for stalking and creeping on others in general. Francis was pretty _sexually-predatory_ , so who better to help the great hero figure out their friend?

"How weird, is he close with Ivan and Gilbert?"

"No, why?"

"Well, he just left their house."

They watched intently as Feliciano walked away, looking twitchy as ever. After another hour of stalking they grew bored and headed back to Axis Powers. They decided the best plan was to throw a coming out party for Feliciano! Coming out and admitting he's a victim of molestation as a child, that is.

At the bar gathered Ludwig, Kiku, Matthew, Francis, and the hero, Alfred. "Alright, dudes, we need to figure a few things out!"

"I really do not think he was—"

"Shut up, Kiku, I'm not done!" The Japanese man quieted down, somewhat annoyed by the loud American.

"One, who else did he molest? And _why_?"

Francis chuckled. "He's a pedophile, why else?"

"No, I mean _why Feli_?" He pulled his smart phone out of his pilot jacket. "I mean, _look_ , I have pictures…"

Ludwig's eyes softened. " _Oh mein gott_ , he got you too?" Everyone was ready to throw affection Alfred's way when they saw it: on his phone he pulled up a picture… of himself, alone, as a child. "I mean, what did this perv get off on? Look at this little guy, he was cute, right?"

Everyone deadpanned. The atmosphere suddenly became painfully stuffy. "You have serious issues," Matthew whispered.

Turning to leave, Francis called out, "No one worry, I have the perfect plan to help Feliciano!" With that, he was gone, leaving the men in a stunned silence.

* * *

Kiku knew this was a horrible idea, but he couldn't do anything but hold his tongue as he waited in Lovino's living room with their other friends. Something sketched him out about the presence of Ivan and Gilbert, who exchanged many quick and sneaky looks. They had to be up to something.

The front door opened and they could hear the echo of Feliciano's voice as he entered the front hall. "Lovino? You said you needed help with something?" He walked to the doorway, freezing when he saw the room full of friends and family.

Lovino was sitting on the couch with Antonio and Heracles. He stood up, beckoning his brother to come in. "Come, brother. We need to talk to you about something important."

Lovino, being worried and not insulting to his little brother? This was not good, not at all. Even worse, Ivan and his idiot roommate Gilbert were standing in the back of the room, near Kiku and Ludwig. Hell, even Alfred and his brother (what was his name?) were there with Arthur, Francis, and Yao…

His brother walked toward him with something behind his back. "I don't really know how these things are supposed to go, but…"

His pulse quickened with adrenalin as his brother held out the tiny doll. "We understand there's been some… _abuse_ …"

"Lovino, you don't understand—" He caught the eyes of Ivan, feeling as if the man could kill him with just one look. It was horrifying.

"Please, _fratello_ … Just… show us where that bastard touched you." He held the doll out in a shaky hand and Feliciano looked around the room, taking in the mass ridicule he was about to receive. Lovino gulped. "Do I need to… turn it over?" Then he gently turned the doll over on his hand, laying it on its stomach.

Another glare from Ivan was enough convincing for Feliciano to slowly raise his hand, muttering to himself. He couldn't bear to make eye-contact with anyone as he touched the doll, but he could infer from the gasps that they were shocked.

* * *

Alfred rang the doorbell anxiously, fixing his shorts up to show off more of his toned thighs. The door creaked open, Roderich sighing in relief when he only saw the blonde man at the door.

"Come in," he said politely.

They sat on a couch in a sun-room, Roderich quickly shutting the music book he left open at the piano. "It is so good to get a visit from someone who isn't accusing me of molesting children," he said. "I never touched anyone and these bastards are here trying to ruin my life for a quick buck!"

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, adjusting his legs. "Truly despicable. Hey, coach?"

"What?"

"Speaking of gym, do you ever get a pull in your muscle? Right here?" He placed his hand on his inner thigh.

"I really wouldn't—"

"Here, touch it," Alfred grabbed Roderich's hand and placed it on his leg. Roderich pulled back with lightning speed.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Batting his big, blue eyes, he asked innocently, "What do you _want_ me to do?"

The Austrian's eyes twitched and he picked up the young man by the scruff, throwing him out of the house.

* * *

" _Io davvero odio bastardi_."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Ivan!" Feliciano was fuming. First, he gets coerced into framing his old gym teacher and ruining his life, and now everyone he knew thought he was diddled as a child. Things couldn't get worse.

Now he was stuck with those idiots as they drove to the police station to officially report Feliciano's molestation, something they said they needed to take Roderich to court.

They slowly pulled into the parking lot of the police station. Feliciano held his breath, following his captors into the big building. They already set up a meeting, and a cop greeted them in a waiting area, asking if they had information to give up. Gilbert immediately shoved Feliciano forward, saying, "Feli here has some very interesting information on the Coach Roderich molestation case!"

Feliciano glared at him, following the cop into the next room.

* * *

"YOU NEED HELP," Matthew quietly yelled at his brother, who came back to Axis Powers in booty shorts and random scratches from being thrown.

"But this is good news!" Alfred cried. Ludwig ducked behind the bar, trying to make himself look too busy to be included in the blonde's nonsense. "You remember Feli when he was a kid! He always got really worked up and his face went red! Sometimes pedophiles go for the more _manly_ boys and, obviously dude, me and Feli were _waaaay_ too cute for Coach!"

"What about Ivan and Gilbert?" Kiku asked.

"Dude, those kids had mustaches in third grade, I'm sure Coach went to town on them."

* * *

Feliciano came back to the waiting area, followed by the same cop. Ivan smiled, "How did it go?"

"Great, _grazie_. I just ratted you two _bastardos_ out." He stomped out of the sanctum as Ivan and Gilbert faced an enraged cop.

The young man continued his angry path back to the bar, walking in mid-argument. Everyone stopped and looked at him, as if afraid of hurting him. "Oh for pasta's sake! I wasn't molested!" He stomped back to the stock room, gathering up a box of random alcohol bottles.

"Are you okay?" Ludwig asked, standing behind him as he gathered more beer and liquor.

"Oh, I'm just swell. All my friends think I was molested and my life is basically ruined."

"Oh."

"I'm going to go drink and cry myself to sleep now."

The Italian stormed out of the stock room, going into another room (an office) and locked himself in. The sound of glass being smashed was the only noise they could hear before violent lines of Italian was screamed.

Alfred turned back to the group with a smug grin. "See, dudes! We totally cured him!"

Matthew coughed. "Of what?"

"Uh…"


	2. The Jour-Man Cometh

The Axis Powers bar was desolate as ever, being working hours for most people. This, however, was no deterrent to Francis. No one really knew how he had so much free time, being a waiter with a very consistent schedule, yet no one questioned it. No one ever saw him working except on days like today.

"You have a job, don't you?" The blonde German asked, eyeing the French patron.

" _Oui_ , but I'm on break."

"You've been here for an hour."

"You got me," he laughed. "I… how you say… do not have a job."

Feliciano and Kiku stumbled through the doors of their supply room, each carrying dusty boxes full of replacement wear. Ludwig remained behind the bar counter, eyes wide. "You were fired?"

"Fired? Heavens, no. I never worked there."

The Italian pried a box open, asking through wimpy grunts, "You didn't? But you served me pasta last week when I came by."

Picking up his glass of (light) beer, Francis sighed and looked at nothing in particular with a starry look and unfocused eyes. "I was pretending to work there…."

"Why?" Kiku asked.

The double doors to the bar _banged_ open, smacking the walls and shaking the closer tables. In stormed Arthur, the stuffy British man they all knew because he worked at a close café they liked to stop by before work occasionally.

"What the hell is this?" he cried, holding up a sheet of paper in Francis's face.

"I think you know that already, sweet _Angleterre_ ," Francis purred.

Ludwig snatched the paper from the Brit, examining it. It was a love note, written entirely in French. It reeked of cologne and even had a few water stains on it from (hopefully) said perfume.

"You're disgusting! I will _never_ want to have anything to do with you, you bloody wanker! So stop trying to talk to me! Stop leaving me letters! And for the love of god, stop coming by the café when I'm working! You scare off the other customers!"

Francis blinked. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about us, Arthur."

"I don't feel _anything_ but contempt for you."

The three co-owners of the bar watched as the scene unfolded. Sometimes owning a shabby bar in a trashy part of town really paid off.

"How about this?" Francis stood gracefully from his stool, pushing his glass to Ludwig and approaching Arthur. "I won't bother you anymore, not even a _single_ phone call from a pay phone, if you do one thing for me."

Arthur's face was flushed red with his anger. "And what would that be, _frog_? What do I have to do to _get you out of my life forever_?"

"See my play."

The glass shattered, being dropped in absolute shock by the usually-steady German. Feliciano and Kiku watched intently, forgetting their busy work with the unstocking of the extra toothpicks and napkins buried deep within the boxes.

"Please tell me that isn't a euphemism."

"Well, it is a musical to be exact," Francis supplied. "I have worked very hard on creating this masterpiece. I thought someone as philosophical and refined as a Brit would be able to see it and truly understand the deeper meanings and the subplots. _S'il vous plaît, mon ami_? Only you could truly understand it. I need you there."

"…then you'll leave me alone?"

"Oui."

"Forever?"

"Oui."

"All I have to do…. Is watch this musical you've created? Just once, then you're gone?"

"That is correct, _mon ami_."

The younger man stood in contemplation, weighing his options, eventually coming to the most logical conclusion. "Alright then." Without another word he turned on his heel, walking away from the men. Francis watched his ass in awe, loving how cute the café apron made the little blonde look. He took his seat once more, in a happy daze to finally get his crush to agree to see him, even if it was for the last time.

Having cleaned the glass up, Ludwig rejoined the situation. "Kiku, please go back and find the box of glasses." The Japanese man nodded and headed back. "And Francis, what the hell?"

Francis was shook from his daydream. "What?"

"A play?" The German scoffed. "What was that, some last minute scheme to win the waiter's heart?"

"I take offense to that, _Allemand_. I worked very hard on this musical!"

"Really? Dummkopf."

"Really!"

"You can't even write in English! What, is it all in French?"

"No! I had a translator help with the hard parts. _Honhonhon_."

Time passed and Francis had left the bar, returning with an actual script. An actual, typed, printed, English script. He easily convinced Feliciano to help him with the performance, in desperate need for actors.

" _S'il vous plaît_ , Kiku? Ludwig? I need more actors and with Feliciano I still am short! I cannot cut any of these roles, they're all very important to the plot!"

"No," they hummed, trying to look busy with cleaning the bar.

Feliciano was bouncing around in a booth, looking over the script. "Oh, come on, Luddy!" He chirped. "This looks real fun! Give it a chance."

"Nein."

The small Italian's smile faded. He always wanted to do fun things with Ludwig, though the man made it very difficult to do anything fun. His idea of fun was _jogging_ and _hitting the gym_ and _watching the history channel!_ "I'll work all the night shifts for the next week!"

His coworkers perked up. They _hated_ the night shift.

"But in return you two have to do the play with me."

Ludwig and Kiku exchanged a quick glance before echoing, "Deal."

* * *

 ** _It's Always Sunny in Hetalia_**

 _The Jour-Man Cometh_

* * *

"No way," Ludwig groaned. "Really? My brother?"

Francis nodded. "He had that certain _je ne sais quoi_ that I was looking for!"

"You're sick."

As part of being in the play, the actors had to meet up daily for hours of cramming for their parts, building the set, and finding costumes that weren't totally disgusting and moldy. And though Francis had plenty of costumes, predominantly cloaks in bright colors and pantaloons, the cast didn't want to risk wearing something of his without a thorough inspection from a black light and a few trips to the cleaners.

"Come, everyone!"

"That's what she said," Gilbert shouted out, laughing. He caught a glare from his younger brother as they marched to the Frenchman.

"Now everyone, have you gone over your parts? You must _feel_ your character! Become method actors if you must and provide for me the best play in this world!"

Germany scoffed, "This is ridiculous. This is just some sham of a play you're forcing us into so you can impress the waiter."

" _Au contraire, mon frère_!" Francis flipped his hair and pranced to the tall German. "This is a play by the people, for the people! And if the waiter happens to see it, then that's lovely coincidence!"

"YOU BRIBED HIM."

" _Honhon_ , nothing gets past you!"

Meanwhile Gilbert and Antonio stood back while they went over their lines. Antonio flipped through his packet, eyeing the play as he went through the pages. "Hey, Gil, what part did you get?"

"The awesome me got…" he narrowed his eyes as he found the page with the cast and characters neatly printed. "…the troll? How unawesome! Francis, what the hell?" His eyes narrowed at what he saw to be an insult. "You made me the _troll?!_ Mein face is much too awesome for this insult!"

Ludwig groaned at his brother's outburst.

"You have the perfect making for the complexity of the troll!"

Antonio gasped. "You got the troll? I got _Nuit-Man_ , want to trade?"

"Nuit-Man? Sounds awesome!"

Francis stuttered. "No, you can't just trade parts!"

"Already did," the Prussian snickered. "Everyone bow down to your leading man!"

"Actually, _Jour-Man_ is the lead," Feliciano supplied. "And I'm the leading lady!"

The men chattered for a while about their parts while Francis fumed in the background. The silent Japanese man stood by, looking at the stage queues he was given. Times like now he felt lucky to be "too soulless to act" and was given the job of being in charge of lights and curtain-pulling.

"Also, Frenchy," Prussia called. "I decided my character is going to be the awesomest of them all. He's also a master of battle."

Francis turned to the stoic man, raising his hand above his head. "I am up to _here_ with these idiots!"

Kiku sighed, knowing his pain in dealing with unending streams of nonsense.

Doing his best to compose himself, Francis spoke up again. "Actors, get on stage! We'll begin going over lines while we wait for our pianist to arrive!"

Feliciano, Gilbert, Antonio, and Ludwig each stepped onto the stage, folding script pages back and studying their lines while Francis and Kiku watched from the ground. The four stood on stage, stumbling over their lines and confusing one-another with their varied accents changing random words.

After much cringe-filled "acting," Francis announced they would be doing their songs now that their pianist finally arrived.

Roderich sauntered into the near-empty auditorium, avoiding the random folding chairs they had set up and sitting down in front of the chipped piano. He caught Ludwig's eye, and they shared an understanding nod, automatically knowing they each had been forced into this some way or another.

He began to play and Antonio and Gilbert began to sing.

"You have to pay the troll toll," Antonio sang. "If you want to get into that boy's— _woah_ , I can't say that!"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, IT DOESN'T SAY 'HOLE.'"

"Really? It looks a lot like—"

" **JUST SING**."

Gilbert snickered at the mistake. "Here's your toll, _troll_."

Next Ludwig came onto the stage and they practiced their group scene, with a table on the stage to act as a bed with a Snuggie™ on top. Antonio and Ludwig walked to it, gently acting out a small scuttle ending with the Spaniard pushing the blonde on the table (though slowly as not to hurt each other).

"Hey," Antonio called out. "Francis! I think here we should move the blanket on top of Ludwig. That way the next scene is much classier!"

After quickly reading through the page Ludwig hummed in agreement. "Yes, I agree. We need to hide the act itself from the audience."

"It makes it a classy rape," Antonio smiled.

Francis twitched. "IT IS NOT A RAPE SCENE! It's a domination of—"

"Here, like this," Antonio called out as he threw the Snuggie™ on Ludwig, crawling under it with him. He moved around making it look, at the least, extremely suggestive. "Classy!"

Gilbert watched from the side, murmuring, "Yes, that's how we'll do it! Awesome, Antonio!"

Francis took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He didn't expect this play to be so soul-crushing to create, especially with his actors all trading parts and taking 'smoke breaks' when he knew for a fact none of them smoked. And now this—these idiots misconstruing his artistic genius!

A tugging on his sleeve made him look over to see Feliciano looking confused. " _Scusie_ , Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Why am I playing a girl?"

"Because, _mon cher_ , you're the loveliest of all these men. Besides that, men used to play the part of women all the time back in olden days!"

"Like that time when we played 'Romeo and Juliet' at your house alone even though no one was watching us?"

"…a little like that, _oui_."

"But we don't need me to be the girl," Feliciano stated. "Can't we change the part of princess to a prince instead—"

" _NO, IT HAS TO BE A GIRL_."

Everyone in the room stopped for a moment, looking over at Francis after his outburst.

"Just trust me, little Feli," Francis said, fuming again and mumbling to himself. _"I am up to here…"_

* * *

It was now opening night of the musical and everyone was scrambling around backstage, looking for props or helping each other with costumes and make-up.

"Check this out, West," Gilbert hummed. Ludwig turned around, buttoning his adult onesy to see his brother swiftly opening his eyes. He wore contacts making his eyes bright red and, now, like a snake. "Awesome, right?"

" _Mein gott_ , I hope you're adopted."

"LUDWIG!" The brothers both cringed when the bubbly Italian came running. Their jaws dropped when they saw him run out from the dressing area, wearing a fluffy green dress and a white apron and bandana on his head. "Do you like my dress?"

"You look like a girl," Ludwig stammered. A confused blush spread across his face. Damn his German heritage and inability to understand emotions or men in drag.

"Am I a pretty girl?" he batted his eyelashes.

With a groan, Ludwig muttered, "Ja, you're beautiful." A scoff to his right alerted him to Roderich, who had been passing by and heard everything. His blush deepened as embarrassment took over. And being a grown man in a onesy caught telling another man in a dress he was beautiful was fifty shades of _kill me now_.

Francis was scurrying around, dressed in a black turtle-neck and matching ribbon tying his hair. "Kiku, you have lights and curtains! Feli, straighten your apron! Roderich, if you play Nocturne Opus _so help me god_! Ludwig, put some eyeliner on!"

Soon they all gathered up and got in place, ready to start. Kiku also had to wear all black to stay hidden during his crew work, eliciting random (German) remarks about his likeness to ninjas. Francis hurried to the curtains, looking through the opening and spotting Arthur, who had just arrived and was taking his seat in the front.

"Alright," he hissed to the actors. "Don't embarrass me!" He motioned his hand and Roderich began playing on his piano while Feliciano and Ludwig stood alone on stage on opposite ends. The curtains opened and spotlights shone on the two. Ludwig felt a new wave of humiliation crash over him as everyone saw him in eyeliner and a onesy.

The piano played and Feliciano began his movements, humming to himself, "What is this strange feeling?"

"I feel so _seltsam_ inside." Ludwig felt so _humiliated_ inside.

"It's so _strano_ but appealing."

"I feel _gut_." _God, kill me now._

The music picked up as they began their weird dance toward and away from each other. " _Tiny boy, little boy, garçon, I need you. Tiny boy, little boy, I want to touch you boy._ "

" _If you only knew, vhat I'd do to you, if I was that boy that's inside of you_."

" _Tiny boy, little boy, garçon, I need you. Tiny boy, little boy, want to make pasta!_ "

" _If you only knew vhat I'd do to you, if I was that boy that's inside of you_."

" _Boy, oh boy, oh_ _ **pasta**_ …"

" _Oh boy_ ," Ludwig face-palmed on stage as he and the young Italian finished their opening song, now facing each other in an awkward embrace. Feliciano's face was growing red from stepping over his lines so suddenly.

Backstage Antonio and Gilbert were watching the play fall apart in seconds. Beside them stood a frantic Kiku trying to pull curtains and also work the lights while Francis looked ready to explode.

"What is happening?" Antonio whispered, genuinely confused at the mistakes.

Francis held on to his director's copy of the script, slowly tearing at it with white knuckles and a steel grip. "Keep singing bitch, _you'll never eat pasta again by the time I'm done with you_."

"What the hell is Feli doing?"

Gilbert laughed, far too amused at this. "He's bombing like crazy. I'm not surprised. Little Feli had to skip lunch for extra practice. That boy's mind would be set solely on pasta."

In the background Francis was storming away with Kiku watching worriedly.

"What an idiot. I look awesome though, right?" he batted his silver eyelashes and showed off his contacts.

"You look like a _puta,_ " the Spaniard deadpanned.

"I'm going for gasps!" Gilbert cried. "I want to make the kids here cry."

"There are no children here, Gil."

Feliciano hurried past the men, looking exasperated and nervous. He caught Gilbert's eye, swiftly screaming from the shock of their 'scary costumes' and running away to hide with frantic cries in Italian.

"Okay, whatever. Feliciano doesn't count, _tonto_."

They waited for their cue from Kiku before they slinked onto the dark stage. Kiku stood by with Francis, who had to take a smoke break to calm down (déjà vu), watching as their Troll and Nuit-Man made their entrance.

"We're getting a lot of laughs," Kiku remarked. "That's good."

"That's not good! This isn't a comedy! Those fools are blowing it!"

On stage the actors crept to the center, where Ludwig was on the makeshift bed. Gilbert peered at the body and Antonio turned to him, swishing his long robes and fake beard. "There he is, sleeping. Just like you like them. Do you have the toll?"

"Screw your lousy toll, troll." The audience laughed at his motions, snapping his hands. He groaned. "Goddamn it."

"You have to pay the Troll Toll if you wanna get into that boy's _pantalones_!" Antonio smiled and did his weird hobbit jig around the bed while Ludwig tried his best to pretend this was all some nightmare.

Gilbert chuckled as the song began. At least the awesome him didn't have to sing! _Yet_ …

" _Hello, passion doesn't stop!_

 _Olé! Olé! I'm the Boss after all!_

 _I'll protect everything I care, no matter what!_

 _Hang on, hang on, hang on! You have to pay the troll toll, Nuit-Man!_

 _I'll show you a fabulous place!_

 _The long, long, pilgrimage way_

 _The heart emerges and reveals—the Troll Toll!"_

Gilbert scoffed, stepping closer to Ludwig and passing a coin to Antonio. "Here's your toll, Troll." Then he jumped into the bed, on top of his brother, who was having a very difficult time not flipping his shit and leaving right then and there.

Meanwhile in the audience Arthur was growing annoyed with this waste of a perfectly good night he could be using to work on his needlework! And a few rows back sat another guest, invited by Antonio: Lovino. And as the play progressed, Lovino cringed more and more.

"That jerk bastard just _had_ to sing about being the boss."

The three men stood on stage, in rocking chairs and beds, Ludwig acting out manual house labor while Gilbert and Antonio sat around and threw commands at him. Gilbert then hurried off stage, forgetting this scene didn't need him.

"Hey, _puta_ ," Antonio called out. "Come here and scratch my toes."

 _Kill me now kill me now kill me now kill me now—_ "Nein!"

"You have to, I'm the boss!"

"I WILL NOT," Ludwig cried, forgetting he was on stage.

"Get over here!"

" _Nein_ , Antonio! I am not your slave anymore! And I am not a boy!" He ripped his onesy off, revealing his under-costume, which they forgot to find so it was just his black tank top and work khakis. "I am a man, see? And I was transformed by the weak, infuriating power of true _liebe_. And I am now… the _Jour-Man_!"

Kiku's shaking hand emerged from behind some curtains, handing Ludwig a prop grenade.

"What the hell is that?" Antonio asked, faking confusion.

"You know what it is, dummkopf." Ludwig tossed it at the Spaniard, who was then covered in red silly-string from Kiku, who had to run behind the curtains to get to him.

"Bam," Ludwig said half-heartedly.

Gilbert hurried back onto the stage, hissing, "Where is the boy?"

"The boy is gone."

" _You can't tell me what to do_!"

Ludwig eyed him, stage-whispering back, "You skipped a line."

"I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS WITH MY AWESOME STRENGTH."

"What—" Ludwig was caught off guard by his brother jumping on him, something they never rehearsed, now adlibbing a completely new fight scene.

"I AM THE AWESOME RULER OF DARKNESS!" the Prussian cried.

"AND I AM THE JOUR-MAN." They were in an actual fight now, throwing punches and kicking shins. They began to draw blood and rip their costumes. Soon Ludwig threw Gilbert down, ripping a fake heart from his shirt and holding it high for the audience to see.

There was a stunned silence at the scene. Then, loud applause at the misconception that their fight was _finally_ some good acting! Gilbert lay limply on the ground, giving his dying gasps.

Feliciano twirled onto stage, approaching the German. "You have defeated the evil!"

He threw the heart away, replying in a bored voice, " _Ja_ , I am the Jour-Man."

"You were a boy but now you can consent, so I am in love with you!"

"Ich liebe dich," he replied.

And now, their final song. Ludwig was so close to being home and not working the nightshift at the bar, he could just taste it. Their 'dead' partners stood up, joining in.

" _Jour-Man! Ah!_

 _Fighter of the Nuit-Man! Champion of the sun!_

 _You're a master of grenades and friendship for everyone!"_

The audience clapped, though it was mostly a courtesy. The actors were ready to leave the stage when the piano began playing again, with a tune they hadn't heard before. Out of absolutely nowhere, a golden platform was lowered from the rafters. On it was Francis, dressed in all yellow and sitting atop a similarly colored chair. He smirked and began his secret end song, watching Arthur as he sang.

" _I was that little boy, that little baby boy was me!_

 _I once was a boy, but now I am a man!_

 _I fought the Nuit-Man, lived as Jour-Man,_

 _Now I'm here to ask for your hand._

 _So if you want to marry man, will you marry me?_

 _Well come on stage and join me,_

 _In this thing called matrimony!_

 _Please say yes and do not bone me,_

 _Please just marry me!"_

He ended with pulling a marriage registration form from his pocket and extending it, rolled up like a bouquet, bent on one knee at the end of the stage, toward Arthur.

Said Brit stood from his seat with a blank expression. "Is it over?"

" _Quoi_?"

"Is the play over?"

"Well, oui—"

"Alright. I'm going to my flat."

"You… you didn't answer the question."

The blonde sighed and tried to ignore the burning embarrassment in his neck. "Will I marry you? No, Francis. I will not marry you. Not now, not ever. This has to be a joke, but it's not April Fools."

"But I put on this entire play for you!"

"And that's _your_ problem. I held up my end of the bargain so I never have to see you again." He turned his back and started walking up the aisle toward the door.

Francis stood up, calling out, "I never signed anything, so I'll see you tomorrow, _mon amour_!"

The crowed began to filter out as the actors walked off stage together. Antonio and Gilbert walked along with Francis, mumbling about how fun it was.

"I think the rape scene went really well," Gilbert said.

Francis squeaked an irritated noise. "I swear to God if I hear Ivan talking about it I am going to smack you."

At the other end of the stage Kiku was meeting with his coworkers, tired out from all the running around. The three walked out together after Feliciano changed out of his dress. The Italian was talking animatedly about wanting pasta for dinner. The other two sighed, just wanting to get out of there and get back home.

As they walked out, all that was left was Roderich. He smiled, amazed at how much his old students have grown since he was a gym teacher. Noticing the mess the Italian left, he went to pick up the forgotten clothes and put them back on hangers. He paused when he picked up the dress, touching the soft green skirting.

"I really do miss when they were little," he smiled nostalgically. "Man, I should have diddled Feliciano when I had the chance."


End file.
